


rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

by theshipstorulethemallwrites



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28006689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipstorulethemallwrites/pseuds/theshipstorulethemallwrites
Summary: Summers are the lake are always spent waiting for the same personfinally he shows up and feelings can't be hidden anymore
Relationships: Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

**Author's Note:**

> written very quickly listening to the new Taylor Swift album 
> 
> also I just wanted daemon fic

Going home for the summers never gets easier. Even though Marisa settled as a grey wolf the first time Brock played for Vancouver in Minnesota, Brock always feels like he’s leaving a piece of himself in Vancouver. More and more the closer he grows to Petey. 

“They’ll come this summer,” Marisa says, nuzzling her wet nose in Brock’s arm as the plane drifts towards America.

“They’ve said that the last four summers,” Brock replies, running his hand through Marisa’s soft fur. 

“Brock, you know that he loves you,” Marisa says quietly, mindful of the people and daemons around them. 

“Loves me yeah. In love with me, no,” Brock mutters, bitter. Marisa bites him gently and he rolls his eyes. 

Getting home to the lake house is nice, especially because Marisa has space to run around. Playing hockey means they have to learn how to stretch more than most people. Most daemons don't need to stretch with their people, but Marisa's need to just _run_ leaves a creeping, prickling itch under both their skins and makes them irritable. But at the lakehouse, she can run until they feel the pull of _too far_ , then bound back and knock Brock off his feet in her delight.

Brock watches her run from the deck, watches her swim from the boat, and feels how content she is each time Marisa drops her full weight on him. But each time she runs, Brock can't help but feel the urge to look over for Elias. And each time he looks, he feels the sting of disappointment that Elias isn't looking back at him, ridiculous sunglasses pulled low to reveal amused blue eyes. He misses seeing the small white fur of Solfried chasing after Marisa. He can tell Marisa misses them too. 

When they first arrive at the lakehouse, Marisa sleeps on the floor, stretched out on the floor in a nest of blankets. Within a week, the nest moves to the floor by the side of the bed, so Brock can rest his hands in her fur. Within three weeks, Marisa is sleeping on the end of the bed.

It’s a month into the summer when a car pulls up as Brock is on the boat. Marisa swims over to the boat, her voice the earliest thing Brock is ever known as she asks, “Did we know anyone was coming?”

Brock shakes his head, turning around and heading for shore. He’s expecting his parents or maybe Troy or maybe some of his high school buddies. He’s not expecting to see bright blue eyes and stark white fur. Elias stands out and so does Solfried, even though they both try not too. 

He doesn’t realize Marisa is that far ahead of him until he feels painful burning in his legs, typical when she goes slightly too far. He races forward, hair windswept and sunscreen dripping down his back once he reaches the porch. 

“Hi,” he breathes, doubled over, hands on his knees, joy hammering in his heart. Marisa is winding between his legs, eyes focused on Solfried, proud at Petey’s side. Brock raises an eyebrow, Marisa has run and tackled Solfried when they reunite in Vancouver. She butts her head against his legs and Brock sweeps a hand through her wet fur.

“Halla,” Elias says quietly. “Am I still welcome?”

Marisa leaves him at that, running a paw over Solfried’s fur in greeting, ruining the pristine whiteness of it. The fox clearly doesn’t care, by the way she reaches up to nuzzle Marisa’s throat. 

“Yeah, always,” Brock says, careful to swallow his tongue. So he doesn’t say the rest of what he wants to.

_I’d kick everyone out for you._

It’s too honest, too much and Brock won’t dare read too much into Solfried’s interactions with Marisa. Not all stories end the way Jake’s did. 

He leads Elias in, shows him the guest room and goes to start dinner. He makes steaks and baked potatoes. 

It’s quiet, even with Elias in his house and Brock feels like they’re about to stop dancing around something. What that is, Brock isn’t sure. How this ends, Brock doesn’t know.

He hears the shower turn on and feels eyes staring at him. When he turns he sees Solfried, golden eyes almost boring into him. 

“Hi,” he whispers, smile soft. She doesn’t come closer but he knows that she doesn’t want to have anyone accidentally touch her. More importantly, she can’t go as far as Marisa can.

“How are you?” she asks. She still has a Swedish lilt to her voice, one that Elias never loses either. Sometimes Brock thinks that the Sedins made it so Elias would always have a home in Vancouver. He likes that thought. 

Here though, by the lake, Solfried sounds foreign but familiar, out of place but home. 

“I’m fine,” Brock answers, focused on the food. 

“Are you not happy we came?” her voice shakes as she says it. Marisa lets out a mournful sound, darting away from where she’s lounging by the fire, rubbing her head against Brock’s hand. 

“Sol,” she says. Brock knows that tone, has heard that tone when he said Elias’s name after the second round last year, after his center had scored a hat trick to beat the Knights. “We stopped believing you would come, we had asked four times and you never showed.” 

Solfried lets out a shaken yip, making Elias race out of the shower, nearly skidding on the hardwood floors, water dripping down his hair and his shoulders. He’s gorgeous and Brock loses his breath. 

Sometimes he thinks about how much he’s seen of Petey’s body but sometimes he forgets. And after weeks without Petey drifting in his days while still haunting his nights, the sudden sight of him is shocking. His pale skin, hard muscle, something crossing his face before he hides it.

But Marisa is looking at Solfried and whatever she sees in the fox’s face, always more expressive than her human, makes her pad away from Brock. She doesn’t go to Solfried. 

She goes to Elias and waits. 

Brock is waiting too. His mouth forms something, maybe four little words but he can’t force them out of his throat. 

“Brock,” Elias whispers, hands fiddling with each other the way they do when he’s agitated. 

They’re at the edge of something, a storm about to start, a miner about to strike gold, a game about to end. 

“Please,” he hears a voice say, a female voice, so close he can feel it in his bones. But it’s not Marisa when he looks down, still across from him, looking up at Elias. It’s Solfried, close enough that he could reach down and touch her.

There are some things that Brock knows. And one is that humans have to complete the first part of the trade. 

The words climb back in his throat but when he inhales he finds the path clear. 

“I love you, I’m in love with you,” Brock says, hand drifting as his eyes never stray. 

He feels warmth shooting up his spine and gasps, noticing that Elias has one finger pressing on Marisa’s fur. 

“Elias, please,” Brock gets out, nearly begging. 

Elias looks to be in shock but Sofried was always the emotion of him in the same way that Marisa was always Brock’s reason. Because she moves, arching up so Brock’s finger swipes over her white coat. 

Elias still doesn’t say anything, just steps towards Brock as though he’s skating through lava. His eyes are burning, focused and Brock suddenly feels hands touching his face. He opens his eyes and all he sees is bright blue, scorching him even as he drowns in it. 

“I love you, Brock, I’ve loved you for years. I don’t know if I know how not to,” Elias says, so quiet that Brock can barely hear the words even as he hears Elias’s heartbeat, even as his hand touches Elias’s soul. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” Brock whispers, biting his lip as he waits for Elias to nod. He pulls his hand from Sofried’s fur and brings it up to stroke Elias’s cheek. Leaning in, he closes the gap and kisses Elias. 

It’s soft, gentle but Elias’s hand winds its way into Brock’s hair and something inside of him sings. They stand there, wrapped in each other until Brock feels himself shudder, pleasure shooting up his spine, and he glances past Elias to see that their daemons are curled around each other, Solfried licking over Marisa’s fur. 

“Oh,” Elias mutters, laughing. 

Brock waggles his eyebrows. “You are in just a towel.” 

Elias groans, running a hand down Brock’s abs, a touch of desire flaring in his eyes. “And you’re shirtless.”

“We have been holding back for four years.” 

“Dinner can fucking wait,” Elias demands. 

Marisa lets out a laugh and then a whine and Brock shakes, kissing Elias again before he does something only slightly stupid. 

He leads Elias to his bedroom, pushes him onto the pillow and as the sun sets over the lake, their daemons curled together at the edge of the bed, Brock finally has everything he’s ever wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are cherished, please tell me what you think 
> 
> title from long story short by Taylor Swift 
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hockeytoruleall)
> 
> Both Sofried and Marisa have been settled for years by the time this story happens


End file.
